


An Unconventional Arrangement

by Atomics



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Budding feelings, Confused Dean, Confused Sherlock, Confusion, Crossover, Hopefully some actual decent plot, I promise someday my tags might make more sense, Jealous Castiel, Sam and John sitting back and being bros, previous relationships, superlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomics/pseuds/Atomics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John had met Dean on a strange case. Dean had followed a particularly nasty vampire nest to London. To finish the job before too many people were hurt he conceded to working with an odd pair of detectives before returning home. Now, Dean's back and needs their help once again, this time with something bigger. But will Dean's recently failed relationship with Castiel mixed with Sherlock's sudden fascination with the supernatural and specifically Dean himself get in the way of things?</p><p>Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own Sherlock nor Supernatural (I know a certain prophet who would still be alive if i did) this was made for fun and i'm in no way getting money from this, just cheap kicks and possibly a god complex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Speedy Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea that kept popping in my head, so i figured why not? There is not nearly enough Sherlock-Supernatural crossovers if you ask me. Sorry if this is horrible or not to your taste. I'm unbetaed, all mistakes are my own.

Sherlock was pacing the length of their flat and really it was getting quite ridiculous. “What time did they say they would be here?”  


“They didn’t. Jesus Sherlock, they’re coming all the way from America. It’s understandable that they may not just appear right in our bloody living room at your whim. They do have to take a plane, you know.”  


John still remembered the first time he and Sherlock had met the man. Dean Winchester, really who could ever forget an experience like that had been. A natural first impression was that he was undeniably good looking. All chiseled features with the perfect amount of delicate, the kind of man you had to try hard not to compare yourself to. Of course he and Sherlock hadn’t got on at all. Then, once they got mixed up on the case together, John knew him to be insane, well that was until an actual vampire tried to rip his throat out.  


Now, three months later, Dean had called out of the blue, saying he needed help, _our help,_ well mainly Sherlock’s, but still. He hung up before explaining, said he couldn’t trust the phone lines much and that he would be here “quicker than you can say airline O’Castiel”. Right, must be an American saying.  


Still, I have never seen Sherlock so worked up unless he didn’t have a case, and we both agreed that anything involving Winchester definitely counted as something, exactly what was a bit harder to put to words.  


So why was he pacing, and ruffling his hair, and looking in the mirror. Sherlock Holmes, the notorious robotic Sherlock Holmes was acting like a uni student before a big date. He seemed all jumbled nerves and more than a bit excited. Perhaps it was the promise of the unknown.  


But my train of thought was interrupted by a sound that resembled a sheet being shaken out behind me and Sherlock’s suddenly frozen demeanor. I turned around and standing there, right in the middle of our bloody living room, was a ruffled looking man in a trench coat plus one Dean Winchester.  


Dean steadied himself before he looked around. Seemingly satisfied with his surroundings he turned back to the mysterious man who was staring holes into him. 

“Cas, you think you're good to get Sammy now, or would ya need to rest up a bit?”  


“I’m fine, Dean. I will retrieve your brother.” And just like that, the man disappeared. Sherlock hadn’t moved and I was just barely managing to begin to regain myself.  


“D-Dean? How on earth are you here? Wh..um..what did I..did he just disapear?” Of all the questions to ask, that's what came out of my mouth?  


“Oh, ah, yeah sorry ‘bout that. That was Castiel. He’s an angel but he’s not a complete dick like most of them so it’s cool. He flew me over here but he didn’t want to take both Sam and me at once, somethin’ about his mojo being off. Anyways, this is a bit weird. You guys got any beer? I can start explaining things until they show up. It may take some time though, I’m not entirely sure.”  


“That man, he uh, he just vanished and here you are. Ten minutes after calling, in London, Baker Street no less. How..?”  


Dean sighed, “It’s an angel thing, Cas can fly and I hate planes so he agreed to bring us here via angel express. Plus I figured it wouldn’t hurt to save some time, money and effort dealing with airlines.”  


“Is this how you traveled to and from London last time? Sherlock mentioned not being able to find your flight records but we assumed you had just used a fake ID or something.”  


“Yeah, like I said I’m not big on flying, and with Cas, it’s a lot quicker to say the least. But um, is he okay?”  


I looked over at Sherlock who was still staring at Dean’s general location, with a look of general discomfort and not really seeing what was in front of him, no doubt trying to make sense of this in that mind palace of his.  


“Sherlock?” I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently “Sherlock, Dean here is going to explain things; he’s your best source of information at the moment, you know that.” Suddenly Sherlock reanimated, glancing about at me with his usual look of condescendence.  


“John, do go run and get us some refreshments. It would seem we’re having guests from America this evening.”  


“Really, Sherlock I hadn’t known.” I was about to go on and argue about running out to the store now of all times, but he was right. Dean didn’t really seem to be the kind that was into much tea drinking and we were getting a little low on supplies. God knows Sherlock would never be able to do something so “pointless” as to go to the store when something interesting has come up. “You said, that bloke, um...Castiel right, he’s going to go pick up your brother I take it?”  


“Yes, yes John. Do keep up, will you? We’ll all go out for supper but we do need some more milk and ah, _beer_.” The word sounded so foreign with Sherlock posh accent. That’s when Dean spoke up, seeming to decide it was time to rejoin the conversation.  


“Hey, we don’t mean to be any trouble, we’ll be booking a motel once we find our way in this damned city. Just thought it would be easier to come here first and explain things.”  


“What! No! Of course not, Mrs. Hudson has an extra room, also since you traveled directly from the states to here then you still only have American currency. I’m sure we have space for the three of you, though it may be a bit tight, assuming your...angel friend also requires the human necessities.” Sherlock paused before speaking with more force “I will not be having you half way across London. No, that wouldn’t do at all. If you simply must sleep, you’ll be perfectly capable doing it here. Isn’t that right, John?”  


He then looked to me, with that look. Of course with that look. How could I argue when he was practically begging me with his eyes and those stupid pouty lips, suddenly looking rather suspiciously innocent. I sighed in defeat and looked to our sudden guest.  


“He does have a point, Dean. Whatever is going on, it’ll be easier on all of us if you guys stay here.”  
Dean seemed to deflate a little.  


“Fine, but I’m not making any promises till Sammy gets here. And Cas won’t need a bed, so don’t worry bout that at least.” Dean shuffled a bit awkwardly, his eyes looking around the flat until they settled on Sherlock and he sat down in my chair, opposite of where Sherlock was now seated, one of his hands running through his curls.  


“Right. Well, I’ll just be going then. I’ll be back in a bit, um make yourself at home.” And with that I walked down the steps and made my way towards the store, the whole while wondering how I could so easily have accepted this as my life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i've decided to switch out of first person, It's not how I really like writing or reading in and I have no idea what possessed me to do the first chapter as such. Also since I'm a lazy son of a bitch I probably won't redo the first chapter so it matches the rest, sorry for the weirdness.

John couldn’t have been at the store for more than an hour, yet the time seemed to drag into forever. Maybe Sherlock was right, it was excruciating to partake in mundane activities while knowing that something much more important (and frankly much more exciting) was taking place. He made it to the checkout with the basics: Lunchmeat, bread, milk, some more tea and a couple of packs of beer. John wasn’t sure which brand the Winchesters preferred or if they would even carry it over here, but when someone managed to lead a life more impossible than his and Sherlock’s, well, John didn’t think they would be too picky.  


After taking a cabby back, John fought with the urge to just run up the stairs, _Damnit I’m an adult, time to act like one._ Through the door, voices could be heard, more specifically the deep baritone of his roommate talking in the lightning fast way that only he could pull off without sounding like a complete lunatic, followed by the rougher voice that came with their sudden houseguest.  


“John, are you going to stand out there all day, or would you prefer for the groceries to not sour, as undoubtedly our guest here would.” Blushing more than he would care to admit, John pushed through the door, muttering under his breath.  


What he found, somehow surprised him. Instead of Sherlock’s usual cool exterior of a mix a superiority and boredom, he seemed to be hanging onto every word coming from Dean, as well as his seat. Dean glanced up and nodded at John, before diverting his attention once again to the detective who it seems was slowly scooting closer to the charming hunter. John just shook his head and made to the kitchen, noticing but not commenting on the lack of a second Winchester or the strange man in a trench coat.  


  


000

  


“But back to what I was saying, silver. It packs a punch to most supernatural creatures, especially werewolves and shifters. A little bit of that to the heart and even the most ferocious son of a bitch goes down. But if you’re dealing with a spirit, silver doesn’t do shit. For them you go for iron or salt. Which speaking of, you stock up on that like I told ya to before I left last time?” Dean glanced back towards the kitchen but it was Sherlock who responded.  


“Yes, yes of course. It’s under the sink, although you never did tell us what exactly to do with it so It’s been just sitting there. John wouldn’t even let me use some of it to test with my mold cultures last month, had to bother him into picking up a separate stash for eating and experimenting.” The detective made some wild hang gestures that Dean assumed meant to go on, so he did.  


He found that instead of finding Sherlock’s intensity annoying, it helped. Cas and Sam should have been here by now and talking about everything but the two of them helped him not worry too much. It had only been about two hours, and Sam was probably just combing his ridiculous hair again.  


There was nothing to worry about, that is, unless something HAD happened to them. So after he finished up talking about spirits and convincing Sherlock that no, he did not know if there was anything scientific behind salting and burning bones and the yes, it was just connected to purity in his opinion and no, he would not take him on a hunt just so he could experiment with a couple of ideas he had, it was too dangerous and frankly ridiculous, he got up and said he needed to make a phone call. He had gotten a scowl for that, to which he just responded with one of his winning smiles and a wink, feeling accomplished when he noticed a faint blush on Sherlock’s pale cheeks. He did in fact, still have it.  


Sam picked up on the third ring.  


“Dean, what the HELL? Cas just showed up and fainted, it was all I could do to get him on the bed instead of the floor. Why didn’t you let him rest up there? Who knows for how much longer he’ll be out, he can’t keep straining himself like this!”  


“Jesus, Sam, you think I didn’t offer?! I’ve been sitting here playing twenty questions with London’s most curious, worried sick! Why didn’t you call if he’s passed out again? I was beginning to think the worst, Sammy. You sure the motels still safe?”  


“Yeah, Dean, no one has come snooping around yet, I’ve just been trying to do some more research while I waited. You really need to fix things with Cas, this can’t keep going on and you know it.” There was a pause that sounded as if Sam was trying to keep himself from saying more on the subject. Instead he just sighed.  


“Well, what about this Sherlock guy, he sounds a little off. You sure we can trust him?”  


“Hell, Sammy, who don’t we know that’s not a little off? I’m not sure how much I trust him either, but we need him, we’re at a dead end and you know it. The things this guy can do, man, if I hadn’t checked him myself I would have been sure he wasn’t human. Even asked if his mother happened to die in a fire.”  


“Well, I guess we’ll see. Hey, I think Cas is waking up now, I’ll let you know before we take off again. You really do need to talk to him about this Dean, you can’t keep doing your usual bullshit.”  


“Yeah yeah whatever, just make sure he gets something to eat, I know he’ll go on about not needing it, but his vessel might, specially with his mojo running out. See ya soon.” Dean slammed his phone shut, probably with more force than necessary. It was all he could do to keep his voice even.  


He knew Cas was doing bad, but he didn’t see why he had to keep trying to keep it from him. Ever since Dean said he wasn’t ready to be a one person kind of man, Cas had become more and more withdrawn. So Dean, like always, pretended not to notice, pretended it didn’t bother him going to sleep alone more and more often until the nights they shared became nothing more than a comforting thought to get him through the tough times. It was easier to pretend than to actually consider what Cas might mean to him. And if Cas didn’t think they needed to talk about it, then he wasn’t about to argue. It was expected, if Dean was honest, why Cas had ever believed in, let alone had feelings for, Dean in the first place was a mystery, and it was only a matter of time before he realized what a screw up he was and stopped wasting his time.  


He ran his hands down his face and took a couple of breaths before walking back out into the main living space, two pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly, obviously wondering where the others were and what was going to happen next. Dean squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.  


“So, Sam and Cas will be a bit longer but they should be here tonight some time, Cas just needed to take a quick cat nap. Once they get here, we’ll catch you guys up on everything and decided our next step." He let out some breath and met eyes with Sherlock "But until then, I’m going to need something to drink.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean seemed distressed, well more so than what Sherlock assumed was usual for him. He hadn’t been able to make out most of his phone call to what was presumed to be this Sam character, but Dean’s tone was agitated and his stance and carefully placed facial expression when he came back only seemed to confirm that, not to mention his request for a drink, which had been met with John walking back into the kitchen and bringing out a six pack of beer, setting it on the table before glancing up with a smile.  


Dean thanked him and grabbed a bottle, opening it up and taking a large gulp before he turned back to Sherlock, with an inquisitive look.  


'Why not' Sherlock surprised himself when the words left his mouth and strode across the room, picking up the entire pack and walking to the couch, removing a bottle and setting the rest on the small table near, Dean followed and sat down with a chuckle.  


'Why do I get the feeling that you’ve never even had a beer before?'  


'I’ve drank beer before, true it has been sometime, and I wouldn’t say it was anything spectacular but not without semi-understandable benefits. I just prefer not to partake in excessive drinking; it dulls the senses and quite honestly, can taste awful.' Sherlock took a drink and tried not to grimace. Why was he drinking? True it was only one beer but still, it’s not as if he had ever really enjoyed the flavour. He’d be much happier with a cup of tea, or if he must, some of the whiskey his brother favored, but he also felt like making an impression on Dean. After all, he was the key to understanding a whole new part of the world and it was completely reasonable and logical to want to make a good impression on someone with such knowledge.  


John was starring at Sherlock with an incredulous look on his face. The detective looked away and took another gulp, attempting to make the whole situation seem more causal and as if he’d had more experience with this sort of thing. Dean didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, so Sherlock took that as a good sign and was about to demand John to either take a seat, or at least close his mouth and seem a little less like he was gawking when the doctor himself spoke up. ‘Well, I think I’m going to head to bed for now, it’s getting late and I don’t want to be half asleep tomorrow, I’ll have to get up early and head to the clinic, ask for some time off..’ He trailed off, talking more to himself towards the end before he looked up again ‘Alright, goodnight.’  


Dean glanced up and said a brisk ‘Nite’ and Sherlock gave a nod of his head.  


They both sat in relative silence for a while, until Dean grabbed his second beer and turned to the detective. ‘Should I be expecting you to turn in soon as well? I didn’t think much about the time difference before I left, guess it is getting pretty late.’  


‘I slept last night, and even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to sleep with so much new information flying around. If you’re tired I can show you to the downstairs rooms where you’ll be staying at.’  


‘Nah, I won’t be able to even think about sleep for a while.’ Dean set his bottle down and ran a hand through his hair and chuckled.  


‘What’s so funny?’  


‘Nothin, this just isn’t how I imagined I’d spend my night. Ya know, you sort of remind me of someone I know.’ Sherlock felt his breath catch when Dean looked up to him with a stunning almost lazy seeming smile, and while his eyes still had the haunted look that has no doubt become a more permanent arrangement, he could see some of the tension leave the hunter’s shoulders.  


Sherlock looked at his now empty bottle and could feel himself shutter inwardly at the thought of drinking more. ‘Do you like whiskey?’  


‘Hmm?’  


‘Whiskey, I stole some from my brother last time he made me visit, and honestly I find it so much preferable to this.’ He gestured to the remaining beer and gave Dean a somewhat mischievous smirk before standing.  


‘Hell, I’ll never turn down a good whiskey.’  


‘I thought you’d say as much.’ Sherlock moved to the kitchen cupboards to grab one of the few bottles he had stashed away and was surprised with the genuine smile on his face. He had gotten that reaction from proximity to Dean before, but they'd always been discussing some of the wonders of this new world he had brought with him not casual conversation and somehow, this felt different, definitely more foreign.  


When he walked back, he found Dean staring at his phone. Sherlock set down the bottle of whiskey and two glasses he found, pouring each half full. By the time he looked up, the phone was nowhere in sight and Dean grinned.  


‘Wow, you weren’t kiddin around. That looks like some expensive stuff.’  


‘Knowing my brother, it is most likely outrageously priced. But he does have good taste in liquors, I’ll give him that.’ Sherlock passed a glass to the hunter and tipped his in a small toast. Dean followed suit before downing half the glass and smiling.  


‘You and your brother get along?’  


‘Oh dear god, no, he’s insufferable.’ Sherlock took another gulp of his glass, a rather large one, but he liked how it helped him ease into things, and he couldn’t be rude to such an interesting and admit-ably attractive guest by not keeping up. ‘But I guess we are close in our own way. I thought him practically a god growing up, someone who could actually challenge me, even if he was always better. Rather petty how much he enjoyed one upping me at everything.’  


Dean chuckled, ‘So one of those guys huh? Yeah brother’s can be jerks, but what do you do.’  


‘Are you and Sam close?’ Sherlock shifted and put an ankle over his opposite knee, glad he had changed out of his robe before his guest had arrived.  


Dean blew out some air ‘Hell, I practically raised the kid. Our Dad was gone most of the time and we moved around a lot, but Sammy was still so smart. Got A’s in all his classes and even a full ride to Stanford. Don’t get me wrong, he’s one of the most stubborn guys around, when he gets an idea about him, well, not heaven nor hell can seem to stop him.’ he laughed almost sarcastically. ‘But I think you’d like him, he’s a big fan of research.’ Dean laughed more naturally this time.  


Sherlock made note of the bubbly feeling in his stomach, but whether that was from the alcohol or the company, he wasn’t sure. Instead of going in continuous circles by pondering it, he looked at their near empty glasses and decided to refill his, gesturing to Dean’s as if to ask if he wanted more as well and promptly poured two more generous cups.  


An hour and half the bottle later, Sherlock got up and stumbled about until he found a hidden stash of cigarettes and sat back down, facing Dean and smiling. ‘Go on, go on! Smoking helps me think when things get all cloudy. Y’don’t mind do you?’  


‘Your lungs, not mine. But where was I…Oh yea! So there we were, one ginormo Sammy, holdin a bloodstained pink frilly bra and me wandering about in the sewers lookin for my lighter comletely covered n crap an monster goo when I swear half of that towns public workers run inta us.’ Sherlock laughed and smoke spilled out of his mouth, causing Dean to fall into another set of giggles.  


He took another sip and Sherlock put his cigarette back between his lips, closing his eyes and savoring the familiar flavor accompanied by the more than buzz and frankly near intoxicating presence that was this charming companion.  


000

Dean couldn’t help but stare as the detective smoked, his dark hair and intense gaze almost reminded him of a certain angel that he had decided not to think about, but the alcohol made everything blur together and light and he hadn’t felt this at ease around someone, let alone _he who wouldn’t be thought of,_ in what felt like forever.  


He reached out and tried to smooth some of Sherlock’s more unruly curls and laughed when they only seemed to become messier. Sherlock’s giggles sounded harmonious in his deep baritone and Dean found his hand lingered until he caught himself and pulled away, running the hand through his own shorter hair instead.  


‘Sorry, wow, I haven’t drunk this much, well in the compny of others in a while.’ Sherlock just cocked his head and moved closer, his eyebrow quirked up inquisitively.  


‘This is perhaps the second time I’ve drank in the past…umm year? Yus, that’s the worrd I’m lookin for. Year. I don see why I don’t more often.’ He took another drag of that damn cigarette, his blue eyes, light and mischievous he maintained contact as if he knew exactly what was in the hunter’s mind.  


Dean watched and waited as Sherlock blew out the smoke and could hear that voice in his head going ‘fuck it’ as he leaned over and captured the other man’s lips with his own.


End file.
